


Sugar, Sugar

by IndilwenofMirkwood



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-08
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-03-06 15:57:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3140129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndilwenofMirkwood/pseuds/IndilwenofMirkwood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A baking accident leads Phil Coulson to look at sugar cookies in an entirely new way. Philinda!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sugar, Sugar

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the Philinda 24 Kisses advent on Tumblr.

The sweet aroma drifted through the Playground, luring him out of his office easily enough and piquing his curiosity; the smell reminding him of Christmases at home when he was a child, when the only thing he had to worry about was which color of sprinkles he'd put on top of his mother's sugar cookies. He would sit, perched on a stool around the kitchen counter, watching as she would smooth out the dough with a rolling pin, flattening it expertly, before she'd hand him his plastic cutters shaped in a variety of festive designs, urging him with a small smile to use all of them, instead of just the stars that reminded him of Captain America.

He chuckled lightly at the memory as he descended the spiral staircase that was wrapped in brightly lit garland, a tiny pang of nostalgia hitting him square in the chest, as he crept towards the kitchens quietly. The smell was getting stronger and he could now clearly hear the sounds of tinkering coming from inside, the scraping of wooden spoons against bowls easily distinguishable as he rounded the corner.

A smile bloomed on his face, his amusement increasing exponentially at the sight of Skye and Jemma, elbows deep in powdered sugar and cookie dough as they chatted animatedly. He watched fondly as two of the youngest members of his team laughed, eyes bright in mirth as they baked, and Coulson was only mildly surprised to hear the deep, humor-filled voice of Trip float out to him, though he couldn't see him from his current position.

"Don't you two think you've made enough cookies?" the specialist asked, eyeing the multiple unbaked trays off to the side.

"Of course not. Who's ever heard of too many cookies?" Skye asked him in all astonishment.

"Oh, I don't know. Help me out, Jemma," he told the biochemist. "You're supposed to be a doctor. You should be promoting healthy food choices and what not."

"There's nothing wrong with a little sugar, as long as it's in moderation," Jemma replied as she pulled a hot tray full of cookies out of the oven before placing them onto the counter next to the other full sheet they'd already baked.

"Besides," Coulson mentioned, stepping out from his place just outside the door, relishing in the small, panicked jolt that went through them all as he entered the room, "It's Christmas. Nothing is better than cookies at Christmas."

"Bloody hell, Sir! How long have you been there?" breathed Jemma, sugar-covered hands placed over her heart, leaving a powdery dusting of white behind on her shirt. "We thought you were working the night away."

"I was. Until I smelled your handiwork," he admitted with a grin. "I can't remember the last time I had a cookie."

He was itching to pull one of them off of one of the sheets, knowing that they were probably still warm and gooey—just the way he liked them. Extending his hand to do just that, he frowned when the cookie sheet he'd been reaching for was pulled swiftly away and out of his reach.

"Nuh uh, D.C., you have to either help us bake or you have to wait patiently until they're finished like Trip here, who's still hoping we'll pass him some crumbs."

He frowned at that, his mouth dropping down into a pout involuntarily, which drew a snort from Skye as she added a cap-full of vanilla to her bowl. Turning to the man in question, "I take it they didn't like your idea of moral support?" he asked with grin, suddenly knowing that Trip had been drawn in by the smell just as he had, but had probably stayed for the company.

"Not really, no," Trip replied with a laugh of his own, grin bright and full, despite being denied cookies by his fellow agents.

Turning back to the girls, Skye was busy mixing what he guessed was frosting and he watched as she methodically added drops of red food coloring to the white, fluffy mass, until it gradually turned from a pale pink to a bright Christmas red. Jemma was currently fighting with a glob of dough, working the gooey substance until it was soft enough to be rolled out.

_'What could it hurt?'_ he sighed heavily, before admitting defeat. _'At least they're doing the messy jobs.'_ He chuckled at his own thought, knowing just how much his seven year old self had enjoyed the messy parts, much to his mother's dismay.

Taking off his suit jacket and rolling up his sleeves, he crossed over to the sinks to wash his hands, ignoring the looks of utter astonishment being thrown his way from the three agents in the room. Drying his hands on a towel and draping it over his shoulder for future use, he turned before asking, "Alright, what can I do?"

His question seemed to snap them out of their stupor as Jemma began to pass him the unbaked dough she'd just rolled smooth. "You can cut these out into shapes if you'd like."

He smirked delightedly as he took the pan from her, glancing around the kitchen to locate the cutters, the metal of them shining brightly under the lights of their workspace as he settled at the counter next to them, one shape catching his eyes immediately as he went to work.

The three of them worked diligently for the next hour or so, managing to complete about three more trays of the sweet cookies, a few falling victim to his sweet tooth along the way. Skye had realized rather quickly as he began passing the ready-to-bake trays back to her, that he'd failed to utilize all of the cutters and had thus confiscated his star, spouting some nonsense about how trees were more important for the holidays, which he'd scoffed at.

"The star goes on top of the tree, how could it be less important?" he'd sassed back, to which she'd then taken his red sugar sprinkles from him as well.

He frowned down at the sheet of cookies full of trees on one side and stars on the other, glaring at the green sprinkles in his hand. He'd already covered the frosted trees in their natural color, but paused when he'd reached the stars.

"Stars are not supposed to be green," he told her grimly, that same unmanly pout of his adorning his face once again.

Skye only laughed in response, his overly dramatic behavior amusing her greatly.

He was being ridiculous, he knew, but the child inside of him continued to sulk, the two of them paying him no mind as he continued to glare at the green sugar in his hand.

"You know, if you stare at those any harder, they might just burst into flames."

His frown disappeared at the new voice, May's familiar, soothing tone, with a small hint of teasing embedded within, enough to ease his internal conflict.

"First, the Grinch over there," he told her, nodding in Skye's direction, "took my cutters. And then, she gave me these horrible green things to put on top."

"So it's a Christmas tragedy?" she asked, hand reaching out to snag one of the finished cookies on his sheet. Instinctively, he slapped her hand away, hard enough to make her jump in surprise as she pulled it back, before a frown slowly started to spread on her face, one perfect eyebrow arched in question for him explain.

"No help, no cookie," was his meager response, parroting off Skye's earlier words with ease. He watched as she rolled her eyes before she stepped over to the two younger agents at the counter across the room. Turning back to his cookies, he could hear bits and pieces of their conversation; Skye and Jemma were chatting enthusiastically about frosting colors, while May spoke here and there, suggesting that they use clear sugar for the snowflakes, before he zoned out completely.

He hadn't heard her return to his side, but he looked up when a small bottle was pushed in his direction, the bright red crystals inside a welcome relief. Smiling up at her in astonishment, "You pilfered the red sprinkles for me?"

"I did, yes. And you should probably use them before the Grinch decides that the green is all you get. As appropriate a color as it is for the trees, I much prefer the Coulson family tradition," she mentioned, the corners of her lips turning up into a small grin as she motioned towards the red sprinkles. "You should be grateful that I have the higher skill in espionage for this sort of thing. She may be the better hacker, but I'm still the better pickpocket."

"I've never been so grateful," he responded with a tender smile. He should have known that she would remember what the red stars had meant to him. Up until the year that his mother died, he'd always had a rather large bag of them to bring back with him to the academy, which he'd munch on well into the New Year.

There was one particular year that he remembered vividly: May's mother had been on a mission, and not wanting her to spend it alone on campus, he'd invited May to spend the holiday with him and his mother. Upon meeting her, his mother had loved her instantly and the two of them had meshed well together as May soaked up the attention and care that came with the holidays that didn't come so easily at her own home. Every year after that, his mother had made sure that when he went back to school, that his best friend had a large bag of her own, the same delicious red stars he'd always been fond of tucked carefully inside for his best friend.

The familiar ache of loss thrummed in his chest, but as discreetly as he could manage and without making a huge mess, he finished the cookies, pleased with how they looked, before lifting one of the finished products to her lips for her to take a bite.

At her quizzical look, "My mother always told me to share, May."

She accepted the offering with a fond smile and he watched, thoroughly fixated on her mouth as she took a bite out of the cookie, the sugar coating her lips in such a way that he wondered what it would be like to kiss it off, the sudden urge only getting stronger as her tongue came out to pass over her lips as she closed her eyes, savoring the taste.

"They're not as sweet as my mother's but they come rather close, don't you think?" he asked, desperately trying to push the lascivious thoughts away, but failing as she licked the frosting off her finger slowly, forcing him to swallow thickly.

_'This is complete torture,'_ he thought as he turned away, heat creeping up his neck and onto his face as he walked towards Skye and Jemma, holding out the now finished tray as he stepped up towards the counter they were currently working at.

He noticed the instant look of confusion that took over Skye's features as she inspected the tray, the red sprinkles standing out luminously against the gray of the metal sheet beneath.

"How did you-"

He watched as she stopped, head tilting slightly to the side in bewilderment. She searched her sweater pockets first, before she scanned the counter top in front of her, frowning at the missing bottle before leaning back to look around him, her frown growing deeper as she spotted the red sugar at his workspace and he grinned when her mouth opened to gape at him, before spinning on the culprit.

"May!"

Her exclamation was met with a sharply raised eyebrow from her S.O. and a shrug of the older woman's shoulders. "Stars are not green."

Instantly, he grinned at May's response, her comment matching his earlier thought as if she'd been there to read them straight out of his mind.

"You two are impossible," Skye commented with a huff, shaking her head in poorly hidden amusement as she went back to frosting the cookies.

"How many more of these are you going to make?"

"Just this last tray I'm mixing up," supplied Jemma helpfully, as Skye was still mulling over how she'd been outsmarted. "We wanted to make sure that there would be plenty for everyone."

"Well I think you've got that covered," May commented, eyes scanning the nearly six dozen cookies that littered the counter tops as the five of them chatted amiably, while he and Trip covered the multiple trays with foil to protect them from getting damaged.

He saw it before it happened as if time had slowed to a crawl, as Jemma lifted the mixer into the bowl, the spinning tines barely meeting the mixture of powdered sugar and butter. Instinctively, though there was no real danger, he shifted in front of May before he could stop himself, the desire to shield her taking over as the beaters began to rotate, spraying the powdery mixture in all directions like an explosion before he could warn them.

They all froze as the powdered sugar settled around them like dust, its fine crystals coating every surface in sight as they stared at each other, eyes wide in surprise. He could feel the sugar as it clung to his neck uncomfortably and swiping a hand across his cheek, he frowned at the white substance that came off on his fingers. Skye and Jemma were both covered, their hair completely dusted in the sugar mixture, and even Trip hadn't been spared, though his clothes took the brunt of the damage.

But his attention was drawn away from the mess when a sudden bought of laughter erupted from behind him. Turning around swiftly, he watched mesmerized as May, who he was pleased to note had remained largely unscathed behind his large frame, started giggling uncontrollably at the sight of them. It was completely unexpected, the sound beautifully unfamiliar and yet, so unmistakably Melinda. It had been over a decade since he'd heard her laugh so freely as she placed one hand over her stomach, the other coming up to cover her mouth, eyes shining brightly as they all gaped at her. But even their staring didn't stop her chuckling and she only laughed harder as he fixed her with a look that spoke volumes of how truly amused he really was. Her laugh was infectious and soon they were all chuckling, but him, as a wicked idea crossed his mind.

Reaching behind him, he scooped up as much powdered sugar off the counter as he could grasp in one hand, keeping his eyes on her as he waited for her laughter to die down.

"Hey, May?"

He succeeded in grabbing her attention just enough that her eyes were drawn to him and as soon as her warm brown met his bright blue, he chucked the sugar at her and watched as her amusement faded into shock, eyes wide as she stared at him underneath white dusted eyelashes. There were gasps around the room, but he grinned when he saw the corner of her lips turn up in a barely detectable smile before he tore out of the room as if the hounds of hell were on his heels instead of _The Cavalry_.

And he ran.

He ran blindly, not really caring where he was going as long as she didn't catch him too quickly. He weaved in between some of the scientists and agents that had stopped to gawk at their normally calm Director and his rather serious, no nonsense second-in-command as they bolted down hallways and down spiral staircases, leaving a trail of chalky white behind them until they eventually reached the lowest level of the playground that housed the gym.

He turned quickly as she came in behind him and he couldn't help the grin that remained plastered on his face as he spotted the streaks of white in her hair.

"Come on, Phil. Aren't we too old to be playing tag?"

But he knew this trick of hers. It was a ploy, a false surrender, in the hopes that he would drop his guard. It had been quite some time since she'd used it against him, but she'd used it well enough against him while they were in the Academy.

_'Not this time, May.'_

He snorted. "Then stop chasing me."

She lunged like he knew she would and at the precise moment that she would have pinned him to the wall at his back, he ducked in just enough time to avoid the hit before he kicked out with his right foot, hooking it around her ankle and tripping her, before sprinting up the staircase that led to his office.

He was winded, his breath coming in harsh gasps as he ran inside, but he knew that she'd be right behind him. Sure enough, he heard the door close swiftly, the click of the lock ominous, despite the knowledge that May would never actually harm him.

Her smirk was cat-like and predatory as she sauntered forward, but the serious tone in the room was lessened by the fact that they were both covered, head to toe, in a fine layer of powdered sugar.

He wondered briefly, if she was going to kick him or punch him first, but he didn't have to wait long as she pounced, landing a solid blow to his shoulder before he could react. He tried to block, to fend her off, but he was enjoying this impromptu sparring match of theirs. It was playful and thoroughly enjoyable as he ducked and dodged her hits, managing somehow to throw in some of his own. But she was quicker, more agile and he realized suddenly that she was trying to tire him out, to make him want to quit.

And so of course, he did the unexpected, leaping towards her suddenly and he watched delightedly when her eyes widened as their bodies connected forcefully. Using his size and weight to his advantage, he pushed her backwards until she was pinned against the closed door with no where left to go, hands restrained above her head by his own.

They were both breathing hard, chests heaving as they looked at one another and he realized suddenly that there was a trail of sugar covering her shoulder, the fine, white powder glistening as it dipped into the hollow of her collarbone before it trailed up her neck and over her chin where it stopped at the corner of her bottom lip. Unconsciously, he licked his own lips in response, his earlier desire to kiss her coming back full force. Leaning forward slightly, he slowly dipped his head down, his nose skimming over her skin as he tentatively began to ghost his lips over the expanse of her throat, before he started placing wet, open-mouthed kisses across the junction of her neck and shoulder, the sugar on his tongue sweet as he sucked lightly on her skin. He relished in the small gasp that left her as she arched her neck, giving him access to more of her sugar-coated skin.

"P-phil?"

Pulling back at the sound of his name, he wondered briefly if she was going to ask him to stop or to shove him away, but her pupils were blown and though he still held her hands above her head, sometime during his distraction, she had weaved her fingers through his own as she grasped his hands tightly.

He could see the silent question swimming in her eyes, the quiet fear of completely breaching the invisible line they'd unknowingly drawn between them, but he'd tiptoed over it and thrown caution to the wind.

She was asking him to choose...

And he'd be damned if he'd go back.

As quick as his decision was made, he sealed their lips together as fast as he was able, lips colliding wildly as his eyes slipped closed and she moaned into the kiss causing him to inhale sharply at the thrilling sound. Running his tongue over her bottom lip in silent demand, she opened up to him in invitation, helping to deepen the kiss as his hands let go of her wrists to clasp around her waist instead, pulling her closer as her hands fisted in his shirt, her nails digging into his skin despite the fabric separating them.

The sugar on her tongue was heavenly and he struggled with his internal desire to either push her further into the door or to pull her closer, but was relieved when she wrapped her arms around his neck so that he could happily do both. He groaned at the increase in contact, the sound muffled against her lips as they kissed hungrily.

He was blissfully unaware of how much time had passed, but the need for air was suddenly very great, and so he eased them out of the kiss languidly, sighing contentedly at the sight of her as she leaned her head back against the door. Her dark hair was slightly tousled, mouth parted in surprise as she panted, her lips deliciously swollen, bruised a bright shade of pink and a surge of pride went through him at the knowledge that he was the reason for it.

Burying his head into her hair and nuzzling her shoulder, he smirked when he heard the doorknob jiggle and Skye's slightly panicked voice drift through the door.

"She hasn't killed you, has she, D.C.?" the girl asked, completely unaware that her two parental figures had just been making out like teenagers against the door that she was currently on the other side of, separated from the amorous scene, that might scar her for life, by just a thin piece of wood and a single lock.

Leaning back so that he was looking May directly in the eyes, he could see her apparent shock, but her gaze was bright behind heavy-lidded eyes, the brown of her irises now appearing molten as she looked at him tenderly, her arms looped loosely around his shoulders. "No, Skye. She hasn't."

"Good. We're gonna decorate the tree in a bit, after we clean up the kitchen. Are you guys gonna join us?"

He caught May's smirk instantly before she replied, voice loud enough that Skye could hear her clearly through the door, "Maybe in a bit."

He could hear Skye begin walking away, her footsteps getting quieter as she headed down the stairs towards the kitchen, apparently satisfied with their answers.

Certain that they were alone again, he smiled as May stood up on her tiptoes, placing a small, lingering kiss on his chin before placing another at the corner of his mouth, subtly avoiding where he wanted one most.

Raising one eyebrow in question, he was surprised when she looked down demurely, before replying, "Phil, are you sure about this?"

"About you?" he asked, instantly knowing what her insecurity was truly about as he cut straight to the heart of the problem.

She nodded, kneading her bottom lip between her teeth anxiously. Cupping her face in his hands, he brushed his thumb over her lip to stop her nervous habit, smiling at the sugar that clung to his fingertips, before leaning down to whisper against her lips as he closed the distance between them.

"Always."


End file.
